Snowflakes are one of nature's most fragile things, but just look what they can do when they stick together

1100

Megan and David sat together in the conference room, both staring silently at the picture of Charlie posted on the board. The picture unnerved both agents. Seeing someone they knew on the board felt different, to say the least, but to look and see a picture of Charlie laughing with his brother, see a picture of two loving brothers now both in pain was worse. They couldn't even imagine how hard it was for Don to look at it.

That picture had been sitting on Don's desk until an hour ago, when Don had tacked it on the board. He'd refused to return home and get some rest, but after the third time he'd fallen asleep on the reports he'd been reviewing, he'd given in, knowing full well he wasn't doing Charlie any good in his condition.

"Anything from Larry?" David asked hopefully.

"No." Megan sighed. "He said that number doesn't have any significant meaning that he knows of."

"We have no leads. We've gone over all of our case files, and we haven't been able to find something there."

"Everyone we caught with Charlie's help is still in jail," Megan said.

David shook his head slowly, a wry grin on his face. "You know what we usually do when we have no leads?"

"Call Charlie," Megan replied, noticing the irony in the situation.

"Maybe that's what it's all about, Charlie not catching whoever this is-"

"It doesn't fit this guy's profile. He's taunting us. Sending that picture specifically to each of us so he knew we'd all see it, especially Don, is very personal. And that cat and mouse game with the phone call so we'd hear Charlie…" Megan trailed off thoughtfully.

"What?"

"This John guy," she mused. "There's something in the way he talks to Don. He calls him 'Donnie' and 'Donnie-boy'. I don't think this is about Charlie at all. ." She looked at David, an idea taking shape. "Don's the target. Someone's trying to get to him by taking Charlie."

"So we should be looking at people who have it in for Don?"

"Probably," Megan shrugged. "But in a decade in law enforcement, you can make a lot of enemies. It'll take us forever to go over the potential list of suspects. Maybe Amita can help us with the computer module Charlie built when the judge's wife was killed."

"I'll talk with her," David said, standing up.

"I'll start pulling all the files Don worked on." Megan stood as well.

Both agents felt a new wave of energy wash over them. They finally had something to work with. The day had slipped away from them, and they had no leads. If they were right that Charlie was taken the evening before, then he'd been missing for over 24 hours, and that didn't look good.

1101

October 29th

Charlie was groggy. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, and his whole body seemed to be throbbing. He tried to get up from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in and felt something biting into his throat. Suddenly, the memories started rushing back; the abduction, the car, John, the chair and the pain. More than anything, he remembered the pain.

It wasn't until John spoke that Charlie realized he wasn't alone in the room.

"Good morning, Charlie." He could hear John walking towards him.

"Morning?" Charlie hadn't realized he had lost all track of time until John had mentioned it.

"Yeah, you slept for a really long time. I guess you were tired." Charlie couldn't decide if John were serious. "You know, they say that if you don't find a kidnapping victim in the first 24 to 48 hours, you'll probably never find them. It's been 38 hours already. Donnie doesn't have his head in the game."

Charlie knew the numbers very well, too well. If they didn't find him soon, the odds were against them ever finding him at all.

"You should really eat." John spoke like he would to a small child who refused to finish his vegetables. He held something to Charlie's mouth which he couldn't see.

Charlie ate. He could do the math. If he kept eating this way, he would eventually starve to death. Knowing how badly he needed this meal, Charlie was very careful with what he said.

"Thank you."

"Has Don ever hurt you?"

"What do you mean? Physically?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, a few times." Charlie didn't add the fact that it was just a big brother and a younger one sparring the way most brothers did. He knew this would set John off, and as long as his captor was calm, Charlie got to eat.

"Were you hurt badly?" John held a straw to Charlie's lips, waiting for him to finish before he answered.

He paused, pretending he was trying to remember his childhood. "Not that I remember. I never had to go to a doctor or anything."

"I never hit my brother." John's confession surprised Charlie, who kept eating quietly. "Whenever my dad went off on us, I always protected my brother." John leaned forward into Charlie's line of sight, now free of the ski mask that had hidden his face. Charlie knew that John revealing his face didn't bode well for his future, but he swallowed his panic and tried to focus on the conversation. "You see, Charlie, not all brothers hit their siblings."

"I guess that's just what I'm used to." Charlie knew he was a bad liar, so he tried to stretch the truth as much as he could.

John moved away again, and Charlie got another bite to eat. He felt like a dog that was getting an award every time he performed a trick successfully.

"What's his name?" Charlie asked hesitatingly.

"Whose?"

"Your brother. You've mentioned him before," Charlie said, more sure of himself when he heard John's even voice.

John seemed to have been taken by surprise but replied calmly. "It's better if you don't know that."

"Okay."

"Let's call Donnie." John was halfway out of his seat when Charlie spoke.

"No, please don't."

Charlie didn't think he'd survive that torture again, nor did he want Don to go through it again.

"Why not?"

"It hurts too much."

"Okay, then let's send him a tape." John seemed to be very accommodating. He offered Charlie another drink of water.

"A tape?"

"Yep, a video," John replied. "But this time you'll have to say what I tell you."

John walked away again, leaving Charlie with an unbearable need to move, and the inability to do so. He felt like he was going crazy.

1110

Don was now hours into his search through the files. Reading the same line for the third time, he took another sip from his coffee. He had awakened in the middle of the night, after a few hours of sleep that refreshed him a little. He had driven to the office long before his father woke up to ask him questions.

When Don had arrived at the office, he'd found a note from Megan, who'd known he would be there long before she would.

Don,

We think this guy is after you in some way. The conference room is filled with files you've worked on. I'll see you in the morning,

Megan.

With the arrival of morning came people filing into the office like it was any other day. It annoyed Don. He knew most of them had no idea what was happening, and his team who did know, had arrived very early in the morning, probably sleeping as much as Don had.

The pile of files that were labeled 'Maybe' was growing by the second.

"David, what did Amita say about the computer program?" Megan asked.

"She said she'll work on modifying it, but it will take a while." David put the file he had been working on in the 'No' pile and moved on to the next.

"Damn, I was hoping it would be ready soon."

"Don," a female agent spoke from the doorway, "there's a package for you. We already checked it for prints." The woman paused. "It's a video tape."

"Thank you," Don replied and took the tape from her.

"It was addressed to Donnie from John."

Don nodded and slid the tape into the VCR, not wanting to waste a second.

A picture of Charlie appeared on the screen, as they had expected. The cuts on his face were more visible, and the blood more pronounced against the paleness of his skin.

Don paused the tape. "What's around his neck?" he asked.

His question went unanswered. Charlie seemed to be lying on his back, the camera positioned above him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Don knew that whatever was around Charlie's neck was the reason Charlie's voice seemed to sound choked and hoarse during their conversation.

Don hit play, letting his brother speak.

"Now you know how it feels to not know what's happening." Charlie said. "Now you know what real pain is, or at least you think you do, because you heard it yesterday. We both know the numbers, Donnie. We both know what happens next. You will never see me again; this is goodbye." Charlie seemed to have some difficulty speaking. Don couldn't make out what the problem was, but he didn't like the way his brother sounded. He had to blink away the moisture building in the corners of his eye.

"John will let me live," his brother continued. "But you and dad will never see me again. You'll always have to live with the fact that I'm being tortured, and you never found me."

Charlie's voice cracked a little, obviously disturbed by the idea of torture.

"You have never been a good brother." Don could see how much Charlie hated saying these words, but hearing them was still hard for him. "So this right will be taken from you and given to a much more deserving man. You are nobody's brother anymore.

"Please tell dad how much I love him, and thank him for everything he has done for me over the years. I'm sorry I wasn't a better son. I'm sorry this is happening to him."

They could see a few tears streaming down the sides of Charlie's face, leaving their trail in his blood. Despite it all, Charlie's voice kept steady.

"I'm so sorry, Donnie, you tell him that.

"Goodbye."

The screen went black, and the number '2280' appeared. Don closed his eyes, desperate to chase away the picture of his brother burning itself into his memory. He knew that what Charlie had said wasn't what he thought, but it didn't make hearing those words any easier.

A moment later, Don opened his eyes and saw his team's attention on the doorway. He had a bad feeling as he turned around and saw his father.

Alan stood frozen, looking at the number without really seeing it, instead seeing his son, whose face was on the screen only seconds ago. "God." He whispered.

"Yeah." Don didn't try to hide from his father anymore, though he preferred that Alan had never seen this video.

"He said… he's being tortured," Alan said, barely able to finish the sentence.

"Yeah."

"Don," Alan waited for his son to look at him, "I know you can do this."

"Yeah." Don didn't have the energy to speak. He returned to his files, looking for someone who would have a grudge and was out of jail. Their search for an empty industrial building wasn't going much better.

There were too many possibilities.

1111

Alan drove home in silence, because the upbeat music on the radio was annoying him. He trusted Don to find Charlie, trusted Don's team who had solved so many crimes.

Don seemed tired again; this time it was emotional rather than physical. Alan knew Don was blaming himself and that Charlie's words had hurt him, even though they both knew Charlie didn't choose them.

The images of his youngest son from the video made Alan physically ill. After seeing the fear and misery on Charlie's face, Alan now understood why Don hadn't wanted him to see it. He would never tell Don that, nor would he regret seeing his son, no matter how he looked.

Alan knew that when Charlie had talked to him on the tape, he had meant everything he'd said. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around his youngest son and tell him how good of a son he really was, to tell him that everything would be okay.

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